


Foxhole

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 40s!Bucky, F/M, Howling Commandos - Freeform, Implied Smut, Infinity War and Endgame didn't happen, She/Her Reader - Freeform, WWII, but otherwise canon compliant, modern!Bucky, other Marvel characters mentioned but not in scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24549955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: You’ve been watching over Bucky Barnes for decades. From warzone trenches to modern shopping malls… (Better than it sounds; can't think of a good summary lol.)
Relationships: Bucky Barnes/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 45





	Foxhole

**Author's Note:**

> It’s just occurred to me that I’ve written two other one shots that are similar lmao. Oh well. I’m a girl that knows what she likes and that thing is ‘Bucky in love with a Reader that he meets in the 40s and ends up finding again in modern times because *insert reason here* looool’ If that’s your vibe, you might wanna read [Blood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22183996) and/or [It's Been A Long Long Time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22580644).

**February 1944**

Chunks of concrete rained down on the village, reducing buildings to rubble and people to ghosts. Steve and Bucky ran through the square, trying for a misguided attempt at heroism. They weren’t saving anyone, only drawing more enemy fire to a civilian hotspot.

“We gotta take cover!” Bucky yelled, ducking under Steve’s shield.

Steve nodded, his heightened senses doing him no good under the hailstorm of bullets and bricks.

Later, Steve would say it was by chance. You, by chance, saw them out the window and opened the door, whistling in their direction. You, by chance, were in the right place and the right time.

Of course, Bucky would nod in agreement. Of course, by chance. But in his head, Bucky felt a supernatural pull to look across the burning square and zero in on you. He couldn’t recall hearing a whistle, or Steve’s order to run. By magic, you were there.

The two men fall into the space you had been occupying. Steve managed to stay on his feet, dropping the shield helped. Bucky landed on his knees, panting hard. You knelt down in front of him and held his face in your hands.

“Hi, soldier,” you greeted in an accent he hadn’t heard come from a woman since home.

“Well hi, darlin’. Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Immediately, Bucky Barnes fell in love with you. Steve watched it happen, and he felt what Bucky did when Bucky saw the super serum change. They both lost something in those moments, and they’d never be the same.

“Come,” you instructed, standing, pulling Bucky up with you. “We’ve gotta stay away from the window. Nothing we can do but wait out the raid,”

“No, we can help-” Steve went to protest, but Bucky put his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“We need to rest, Steve. Can’t see shit out there, and we’re both targets,” he said, ready to say anything to stay where you were.

Steve couldn’t work out what type of building he was in. The front door had opened into a tiny room, barely large enough for the three of you. Through an opening he had to duck to get through, was a second room. Wooden walls, a wooden ceiling, and gravel floor. “What is this?” he asked as you pushed Bucky onto the bed, then herded Steve onto the one chair in the corner of the small room.

“Don’t know,” you answered.

Bed in one corner, the chair in the opposite, there was only a small fireplace left to survey. Steve and Bucky watched in silence as you lit a fire easily. It mesmerised Bucky; when you looked over at him, the reflection of the flames were flickering bright in his eyes. Steve was less interested, still flinching at the sounds outside and on edge.

“Someone should watch the door,” he said, moving to stand.

“Sit,” you ordered so firmly Steve complied.

“Do you live here?” Bucky asked then.

“No. Does this look like a home?”

It looked like a bed, chair, and fireplace, Steve thought. There were no doors, no windows, no running water. There was no evidence of a life lived. It was simply a hole in the wall, scratched out to provide haven. 

Coming periodically were shots, screams and shakes. Steve tried to catch Bucky’s eye, even tried talking again, but he felt heavy with something. Exhaustion, maybe.

You had a bag with you, and from it you pulled a saucepan and a large canteen. Over the fire you began to boil water.

Bucky watched you pour the boiled water into different containers: two enamel mugs and one large bowl. _That bag is magic,_ he thought. It seemed like you were pulling things from it endlessly. _She’s magic._

It was tea. You were making tea. Sweet, hot, tea. When you handed one of the mugs to Steve and one to Bucky, they looked shocked, despite the fact that they’d watched you make it. “Don’t burn your mouths,” you told them.

Without seeking permission, you stood with the bowl of water and began to wash Steve’s face. Of course, he’d not seen where the washcloth came from. His eyes watched you as he drank his tea and you gently found the colour of his cheeks under the dirt and the muck. 

“The water is still warm,” you said as you swapped the water bowl with his empty mug. All hesitation gone, Steve started to strip. Although lukewarm, the water felt good.

As you tended to Steve, Bucky looked around the room. How long had you been there waiting for him? The candles on the floor were burnt halfway down. He watched them flicker but his undivided attention returned to you when you brought the saucepan over to him. Bucky was covered in more dust and blood than Steve; he didn’t have a shield to take cover under at all times.

“How was it?” you asked him, taking his mug.

“Best thing I’ve tasted in a long time,”

“Good,” you replied, smiling.

Bucky sat still as you began to unbutton his top, pulling it from him and throwing it aside. He let you clean him and shake the war from his hair. He held back tears, but only barely.

After the tea and the baths, you ushered them onto the bed and kissed both their temples. When Bucky made a completely involuntary whine as you moved away, you leant back down and kissed his lips gently.

“I’ll take first watch,” you said.

They fell asleep fast and didn’t dream. You and your bag of tricks was gone in the morning. It hurt more than any of the injuries Bucky had sustained since he’d left U.S. soil.

**June 1944**

Bucky kicked at Dum Dum’s feet. His eyes shot open and he cursed at Buck. “Just checkin’ you weren’t D.O.A.,” Bucky said, almost smiling but not quite. He watched Dum close his eyes again. It’s what he should have been doing. Even if it wasn’t real sleep, anything was better than nothing.

He looked to his left, down the trench. It was caved in a bit, but the mud had covered bodies, so Bucky didn’t mind too much. He kicked himself for thinking it. _Those men deserve to go home,_ he thought. But that wasn’t war. A break from the gore was the closest thing to peace.

To his right, the rest of the Howling Commandos were quiet. There was still automatic gun fire above them. It wasn’t safe to move. “Soon,” Steve kept saying.

Steve kept disappearing over the dirt, only to scramble back, pulling boys into their care. They were out of supplies, and they lost their medic a couple days prior. They did what they could, which wasn’t much. They had a small amount of clean-ish water between them, and a couple biscuits.

“Ginger Rogers or Mae West?” Gabe posed to the group.

Bucky listened to them fight, disinterested. Before anyone had the chance to ask him though, the enemy guns went quiet. That’s when people moved. Steve dropped into the trench, landing on his side. He was alone, which was never a good thing. Bucky scrambled to him, pushing him onto his back and assessing.

“Where? Where did they hit ya?” he yelled, looking for the source of the blood covering Steve’s entire torso.

“Buck! Buck, stop! It’s- It’s not mine!”

Steve sat up as Bucky fell back on his haunches. Morita threw a canteen to Steve.

“Is there anyone out there?” Bucky asked, his eyes welling with tears.

“Jesus! Fuck!” Dum Dum screeched as someone landed on top of him. They rolled off fast, crawling on all fours towards Bucky like they had a homing beacon on him. 

Even through all the horror stuck in your hair and splashed across your clothes, Bucky recognised you immediately. As soon as you were close enough, he fell into your arms.

“Hi, soldier,” you greeted, pulling the pack off your back.

“Where… Where did you come from?” he asked.

All the Commandos sat up straight, entirely confused as to why a woman was anywhere near the trenches.

“Here,” you said, piling things next to him. Biscuits and bread, and a couple cans of something that claimed to be meat. A pack of cigarettes. Rolls of medical gauze. A handful of shoe laces all tangled up.

As you unpacked, Bucky tried to ask your name, the words tripping over his tongue and teeth. He looked for obvious injuries but he couldn’t see a single scratch on you. In fact, you didn’t even look tired.

“S'all I got for ya,” you announced, shrugging and throwing your pack back on. “Gotta go,”

“Wait!” Bucky yelled, holding you in front of him by the wrist.

You leant forward, pressed your forehead to his. “Promise you’ll survive this?” you whispered to him. He tried to nod, but your hands were holding his head to yours. “Good. Stick your tongue out.” He obeyed and you licked his tongue and disappeared over the edge of the trench. 

Bucky tried to stand to watch you go, but Steve pulled him back down just as the enemy fire begun to rip up the ground again.

**December 1944**

The Howling Commandos scrubbed up pretty nice. Bucky studied his reflection in the mirror. He knew Steve and the others were waiting for him outside the room; they were celebrating making it out of the trenches alive and together. The hotel down the road was calling, the cheery voices of men carrying to his open window.

Bucky was clean. His stomach was full. He sighed, pushed his hair back and left the room.

People cheered as Steve entered the hotel. Beer started to be poured freely, and Jacques was quick to clap Bucky on the shoulder and make a beeline to a group of women in pretty dresses in the corner. His friends dispersed, leaving only him and Steve.

“What’s the point?” Bucky asked his best friend, leaning on the sticky bar.

“Might not get drunk, but I’ll take it over muddy water any day of the week,” Steve replied, drinking the essentially non-alcoholic beverage in his hand.

Bucky turned to look at Steve, say something, but Steve was staring right over Bucky’s shoulder. When too much time passed without blinking, Bucky raised his eyebrows and asked, “What? Is Carter here or some-” but he abruptly ended his sentence as he turned to look at whatever Steve had clocked.

You were sitting on top of the piano, bare feet on the player’s chair. Steve said something but Bucky didn’t hear him. They both watch as Morita kicked the piano player away and took his spot. They knew he recognised you when he glanced over his shoulder and winked at them. 

Morita started to play, but it was bad and the whole bar immediately booed him, but he was not be deterred. It was funny, people were laughing and throwing harmless things at him. It was a moment people would remember fondly, hiding it away in their brain so when they got home they had _something_ good to tell their families.

Bucky set his glass down on the bar and walked across the room, weaving between drunk soldiers and tired allies. As he approached, you swung around to let your legs dangle.

“Hi, soldier,” you greeted.

Part of Bucky thought maybe you’d been a fever dream. He’d not spoken to Steve about you, not even once. He refused to answer questions after you left the trench. For reasons unknown to himself, Bucky considered you _his._ It felt sweet and intimate, and hot and consuming. So, he was not going to waste a single second.

As Bucky came to stand in front of you, you wrapped your legs around his body. He pressed himself into you, pulling you into his arms. Your lips met and you could taste the beer you’d watched him sip and the toothpaste he’d recently used. He couldn’t begin to describe how you tasted but he was sure it was celestial.

Usually, the bar would erupt in howls and hoots at the sight of people smashing faces in the middle of the room. But, people looked away, pretending the two of you weren’t there. Maybe it was the watchful eye of Captain America threatening to take on anyone who dared disrupt his best friend’s moment. Maybe it was the neediness so evident in the way Bucky clung to you, or the scarily mysterious way you’d arrived in their midst, a friend but a stranger.

“You kept your promise,” you said, keeping your lips close enough to brush against his as you spoke.

Bucky nodded furiously. “Yeah. Yeah, darlin’. Tell me to make another. I’ll keep it 'till I see you next time,”

“No need to get ahead of ourselves, Sergeant. We’re still in _this_ time, and we ain’t got anywhere to be but right here.”

It was only when the piano player returned, loudly pushing the lid up off the keys to signal his arrive, did you and Bucky break apart. Bucky held your hands as you slid off the piano.

“Do…” Bucky started, but wasn’t sure what the right offer was. “Do you want a drink?”

“No. I want you to take me home. Wherever that is now,” you replied.

Bucky swallowed hard, nervous and excited and shaking in his boots. “I’ll just tell-”

“He knows,” you said, nodding to where Steve was. Seemingly on cue, Steve looked up. You twinkled your fingers at him in a wave, and smiled back at the two of you. “Ready?”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. With your fingers laced between his, Bucky walked you out of the hotel and down the street. Although a cautious one, there were enough people out and dancing that it could almost be classified as a party. You could tell Bucky was trying to not be distracted by the careful optimism around him as he walked at a brisk pace to where the Commandos were boarding.

There wasn’t anything that needed to be said, so you didn’t speak as you followed Bucky up the stairs and into his room. Once the door was the closed, he awkwardly hovered between turning on a light or igniting candles.

“How about moonlight?” you suggested from where you were standing at the window he had left open. The moon was full and high, flooding the room in a soft white light. You turned around when he didn’t reply. “Not so brave without an audience?”

“S'not it,” Bucky said quickly. “I just…”

“You just?” You walked to him, only stopping once you stepped well and truly into his personal space. “I’m good at keeping secrets,”

“It’s nothin’,” he replied, too dismissively for it to be true.

You nodded, not wanting to push anything from him, only wanting what he was willing to give. “James? Do me a favour?”

“Anything,”

“Undress me. Take me to bed. Don’t think about anything outside this room.”

Bucky was a good soldier, he knew how to follow orders. That night, he had never been better at following instructions. He didn’t once think of the world beyond you. He didn’t question how you knew his first name. He didn’t do anything other than worship you entirely. 

When he woke up, the morning sunlight blinding him, he felt around for your sleeping frame. You were gone, leaving no proof you were ever there other than taste of you on his lips and the image of you burned into his mind forever.

**January 1945**

Steve grew smaller and smaller, and too quickly Bucky couldn’t hear him call his name anymore. In the few seconds he had left, he thought of home, of how he was going to let his sisters waiting for him down. He thought of Steve and how he’d be okay because he had Peggy. And, just before he hit the icy surface of the Danube River, Bucky thought of you. How if he had to die then, at least he knew what it meant to be in love.

**Yesterday**

Bucky never bothered to decorate his room at the compound. He had never experienced permanency and he wasn’t sure it even existed, at least, not for someone like him. It wasn’t until Sam and Wanda teamed up to bully Bucky into unpacking his backpack and go buy some new clothes that he really even started to relax into the space.

Sam took him on a tour of everybody’s rooms for inspiration. Steve’s room had the well-intended order of a soldier, but the chaos of… well, Steve Rogers. Natasha wouldn’t invite them in for a tour, and Bruce’s was hardly lived in at all. Despite a group protest, he’d set up a cot in his lab. That just left Wanda.

“I didn’t know you play guitar,” Bucky said, looking around.

“I don’t. Only learning… It just reminds me of someone…” she replied, looking over to Sam leaning against the door frame. She could understand Bucky’s hesitation to nest. “I know they’re not coming back, but I like to make this a place for them - the people I have lost. It is a room for me to remember them. Somewhere they would like, and they would like for me to be.”

Bucky nodded, standing in front of a world globe marked with tack pins. _A place for the people he’d lost._

Later that night, Bucky stood in the middle of his room. What had your bedroom look like? Had you even have one? You must have. You were a real person with real life. At some point, you belonged somewhere. 

A knock on the door snapped Bucky out of his memories.

“Hey,” Steve greeted.

“Hey,”

“What’re you thinking about?” he asked, sitting on the end of Bucky’s bed. When Bucky shrugged, Steve knew. “You wanna go out tomorrow?”

“Shopping?” Bucky inquired. Steve nodded. “Yeah… Guess it’s time to do a little decorating.”

**Current Day**

Although Steve assured him the glow would wear off, Bucky was sure he’d always get a kick out of the all-but-unlimited credit cards Stark had gifted them. And, Steve was sure Bucky was buying things just for the hell of it. 

He thought he’d be stuck in the shopping mall forever until a fire alarm began to sound overhead. Both of them immediately dropped what they were holding and switched to soldier mode.

Steve had Nat on the line so quick Bucky hadn’t seen him pull out his phone. "She says there’s nothing on the radar, but she’ll check again,“ Steve said.

"It’s probably just a drill,” a girl in her retail uniform said from behind them. It made them both jump. So much for soldier mode. “We don’t get told exactly when they’re happening, but we’re about due. No bad guys today. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, proceed to the exit by the bath department and follow the directions of mall security.”

Bucky deferred to Steve, who shrugged and began following the girl’s instruction. They tried to stay near the edges of the crowd of people being evacuated from the mall. They could sense people were nervous, scared that something bad was happening. Shopping malls in the U.S. were easy targets, after all. But as more people recognised Steve, they felt at ease. If Captain America was calm, not involved in whatever was happening, maybe it meant whatever was happening wasn’t happening at all.

Steve was thinking about what he’d like for dinner, while Bucky surveyed the crowd. There was an emergency exit up ahead, someone was talking to the security guy positioned there, trying to leave the crowd. Bucky watched, making out more details the closer they got. Before his conscious brain caught up to what he felt, he was tapping Steve.

“Steve. Steve, look.”

Both men curved to the side, stood across from the exit with the river of people between them.

You turned to look behind you for only a split second. It was enough for both Bucky and Steve to see your face.

_Fuck._

Pushing past the security guy with unnatural force, you ran through the doors and down the concrete corridor. You could hear running behind you but as you turned a corner and faced a fork, you figured you had the upper hand. When Steve and Bucky reached the same point, they split up.

Behind the scenes of a shopping mall was a maze, but you were well versed in escaping mazes. Very quickly, you found yourself bursting through an external door and running down an alleyway littered with crushed boxes and balls of used packing tape. You thought you were about to escape into the hustle of thousands of mall-goers waiting in the parking lot, but suddenly your legs were falling out from under you.

When you sat up, truly shocked, you saw a trashcan lid rolling away from you. Steve picked it up before it could begin to spin to a spot. He held his free hand out to you.

“Sorry. But you weren’t going to stop.”

Standing up and brushing yourself off, you rolled your shoulders back and stretched out the hit. “Did the running give that away?”

Steve looked pissed. It was that anger he reserved specifically for when something was threatening Bucky. He didn’t care so much as to the _how_ you were standing there, decades later, unchanged. Steve learnt long ago that anything was possible. It was the _why_ he was interested in.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, almost spat.

“Leaving,” you answered, turning around.

“No-” His hand was on your shoulder, spinning you around. You pushed off him but he shoved you into the alleyway brick wall. "You aren’t,“

"Are you going to beat me into submission? Not really your style,”

“You don’t know my style anymore. From the looks of you, here, now, you probably aren’t defenseless.” Steve took a step back, but it was clear he was still caging you in. “What do you want from him,”

“Nothing,”

“Nothing? Then what are you doing here? Can’t be a coincidence. Out shopping for a summer dress?”

“You got snarky,” you said, amused.

“He’s my best friend,” Steve replied. The sadness in his voice hurt more than any punch or snark could.

You nodded, looking down. “I know… I’m just… checking on him,” you told Steve truthfully. “It’s what I do,”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just… What I do… After he fell, I couldn’t find him. But, it didn’t take long to figure out what happened - I’d been keeping tabs on Zola. Still, it was too late to tell you. You’d driven your stupid ass into the ocean.”

Steve took another step back, it was a clumsy one; he almost stumbled. “I could have-”

“Don’t get hung up on that. A million things _could have_ happened. I followed them through Europe, but I just couldn’t do it alone,”

“That was you. I read about all the Hydra bases that were blown up,” Steve said.

You grinned, nodded. “Eventually, they brought him home to America. I got close, only once, but he almost took my head off. That was the last time I tried to… I don’t know… Since then I’ve just watched,”

“What about after New York? Did you know he was in Romania?”

“Yeah. But he found his footing. Ate better than he had his whole life. Figured it wouldn’t be long until you found him. It was only ever going to be you that saved him. I knew that,” you explained. There was a fleeting moment where you questioned why you so easily gave up to Steve. The answer though, was obvious.

“And now? What about now? What’s the point in staying away?”

It was a fair question, but the tone of Steve’s voice made it clear it was more of an accusation than anything else. Before you had to answer, his phone rung. You could hear Bucky’s breathless voice on the other end.

“I can’t-I can’t find her anywhere, Steve. Did you see where she went?”

Steve hesitated and the silence was telling. “Buck… I-”

“Where are you?” Bucky demanded, his voice almost cracking.

Steve held the phone out to you and shook it. You didn’t dare not take it. 

“Hi, soldier,” you greeted.

The sound on the other end was almost a whimper. Then, “Don’t run. Please.” Bucky was moving, sprinting back through the inner tunnels of the mall to retrace Steve’s steps. “I won’t make you stay. Just lemme see you. Please. Please, darlin’,” he pleaded as he slammed through the door you’d exited only a minute before. He dropped his phone and cannon-balled himself into you.

“It’s you,” he whispered.

“It’s me,”

“How, how are-”

“Buck, might wanna move this reunion somewhere else,” Steve interrupted, nodding to the crowd in the carpark. Many had noticed the commotion in the alley and camera phones were out. “Take her back to the compound. I’ll meet you back there later.” He threw Bucky a set of car keys and walked out to the crowd, putting on his best Captain America smile and readying himself for autographs and selfies. 

“Come on,” you ordered, prying yourself off Bucky. “Take me home.”

Bucky was wide eyed and unwilling to let you go, so you took his left hand with both of yours, pulling him back through the door and into the mall’s belly. Neither of you spoke as you walked back to where Steve had parked Sam’s borrowed car. Leading the way, you knew Bucky had figured out that you must have been watching him - otherwise he would have surely asked how you knew where he parked.

“I’ll drive,” you said, letting go of Bucky and taking the keys that were screwed shut into his right hand. He watched you get into the driver’s seat and start the car. Slowly, he moved to sit in shotgun.

For the first half of the ride, Bucky’s fists were balled and you could see the tension holding his body hostage. He barely looked at you, keeping his eyes on the road. When you reached out and put your hand on his thigh, his breathing hitched and he sniffled, holding back tears. 

By the time you pulled in to the compound, the security system already knew who you were and there was no problem getting through the gate. When you put the car into park, Bucky nearly ripped the door off to get out. He scrambled away from the car and began hyperventilating.

“James…” You got our and ran around to his side. He was on his knees, jeans pushing into the harsh gravel. As you went to kneel in front of him, he caught you, wrapping his arms around your body while you stood. “It’s okay,” you said, raking your fingers through his hair. He had his head pressed into you, his arms tightening. “Come on. Show me around. I haven’t been able to find a way in yet. Been trying for a while.”

Bucky looked up and you wiped away his tears with the pads of your thumbs. He started to nod, then let you hold his hands while he pulled himself off the ground. 

Inside the compound was quiet and… for lack of a better word, _stark._ Polished concrete and sleek glass walls lead the way to the living quarters and to Bucky’s room. He closed the door behind you and sat where Steve had the night before.

“This isn’t a foxhole, James. But you’ve not made it a home,”

“Doesn’t feel like one,” he replied.

“It doesn’t feel like one yet,” you corrected. “You’re safe here. You’re with your family… And, you were in the homewares department today,” you added with a grin. Bucky tried to muster a smile, but the best he could do was not cry. You sat down next to him and took his hand. “You’re tired,”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, not meaning it to come out as a whisper.

“Then, sleep. We’ll sleep. We don’t have to talk now,”

“No. No, you’ll go. Won’t be here when I wake up,” he said, the deep frown on his face would have been comical if it weren’t so heartbreaking.

You stood up in front of him, lifted your shirt over your head. Bucky held his breath as you undressed completely. He stayed silent as you stepped closer to him, undressing him. Together, you crawled under the cool sheets of his bed. Bucky burrowed in, wrapping himself around you, a little self-conscious of his vibranium arm; he hadn’t had it last time he’d seen you. With his head rested on your chest, he closed his eyes and held you tight.

“I promised you that I’d survive,” Bucky said.

“Ah-huh,”

“I kept it, so you gotta promise me somethin’ too. Promise you’ll be here when I wake up. Gotta swear it.”

You kissed the top of his head and closed your eyes. “I swear… The war’s over.”

**Author's Note:**

> Was she a guardian angel? Time-traveler? Something else? What do ya think?


End file.
